Highschool. It's supposed to be the time of your life when you have fun, experiment with new things, and find out who you are. I never did any of these things until I found them. I had always gotten straight A's, never went to parties, and I most definitely didn't have a girlfriend. We all know of the basic, stereotypical cliques that each high school has. You don't mingle with the others. Jocks talk to jocks, preps talk to preps, nerds talk to nerds, and goths talk to goths. In my case, I had never really had a real clique. Everyone I tried to talk to just avoided me, which was okay I guess, I'd always been kind of a free bird. I'm not really one to be held down by the responsibility of being a good friend.

I'm definitely not a bad kid, if that's what you're thinking. I'm just, I don't know, a loner. I always do my homework, and until now, I had never thought of leaving school.

Oh, I guess I owe it to you to introduce myself. My name is William Love. I know, I know, Love? It seems a little cheesy, and well it doesn't describe my life at all, but I like it. I mostly like the reaction I get from people when they ask my name. When I was little, kids would ask me, "Ooh are you in Love?" I eventually got used to it, but it opened up doors for people to bully me.

The bullying had almost become unbearable. I would take it like a man, though.

I took another punch. "So, you think you're hot stuff, huh?" the guy who was punching me (I believe his name is Josh something) asked.

"Well, I mean, if you want to put it blatantly." I answered.

He huffed and threw another punch at my ribs. The funny part was, that I knew I could hurt him a lot worse than he could hurt me. Punching him back would just make it worse, though. I knew if I punched him, I would just get blamed for it, because let's face it, most schools, don't care whether you were defending yourself or if you actually started the fight.

He stopped hitting me when the bell rang, and ran out of the bathroom, leaving me there to deal with the pain. I looked at myself in the mirror. Pathetic. My face had become sullen, my hair was damp from sweating, and my clothes barely fit my body. I looked at my dark hair and sighed. I need a change. Something exotic or maybe not exotic, but...what's the word I'm looking for? Ah, yes, I need something extraordinary.

Blue hair would be kind of cool. My dad would freak, my mom would probably kill me, and the people here would look at me. That's exactly what I want. For now though, I need to get to class.

I started walking through the hall and rushed to my locker to grab my books. As soon as I started twisting the lock to unlock it, the bell rang. I cursed under my breath. I hate being late, all of the seats in the back of the class would be full, and I would have to sit in the front near the teacher who had a tendency to spit when he talked. Great. I hurried up to class, and when I walked in, everyone went silent. Did I have something in my teeth?

"You're late, Love." said the teacher, not turning around to see who it was. Was that myth where adults have eyes in the back of their heads true? I doubt it.

"Sorry" I shrugged. I looked around, and as I suspected, all of the seats were taken where I usually sit, so yup, looks like I'm sitting in the front with Mr. Parker (AKA Mr. Spit)